Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(69)

No more radical rantings and ravings for you, my friend, I thought as they moved on to the next dead radical. Now you’re just another dead hate monger.

One thing the television news station did well was gauge the reaction of the community. To say the people of Northeast Tennessee were shocked by what had happened in our own back yard was an understatement. There was genuine disbelief that the racial animus in our community ran so deeply. It appeared that people were willing to take a serious look in the mirror and take some steps to try and bridge the gaps of ignorance and intolerance that allowed such things to happen. For my part, I was ashamed of what had happened. I was ashamed that I couldn’t put a stop to it. I was ashamed that so much hatred was so close to the surface in our community.

Around eleven thirty I asked Jack to take a walk outside with me. He’d been quiet and sullen all evening, and I knew he was thinking about Sheila Self.

We put on jackets and walked out into a breezy, chilly night. A new moon was almost directly overhead, the sky dappled with fast-moving cumulus clouds.

“You want to talk about it?” I said as we walked slowly toward the trail where I jogged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much to talk about. What’s done is done.”

“How do you feel?”

“Guilty. Sad. Stupid. I could have handled it a dozen different ways. I didn’t have to body slam her like that.”

“She’d just stabbed the woman you love and was about to take another crack at her,” I said. “You reacted. You didn’t think because you didn’t have time to think. You just reacted. I’m sorry you took a life, Jack. It isn’t a club I would ever want you to join. But you did. You killed her. There was no wrong in it.”

“I could have taken that knife away from her,” he said. “I could have arm-barred her. I could have choked her until she was unconscious.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she throws the damned knife into your eye. Maybe she slices you with it before you can take it and you wind up bleeding to death. Maybe she gets it into Charlie’s chest the second time she tries. None of those things happened because you reacted the way you did. You were decisive. You saw the danger and you eliminated it.”

“I didn’t intend to eliminate it permanently. Or at least I don’t think I did. That’s what is bothering me the most right now. Maybe I did intend to kill her. When I saw that knife go into Charlie’s arm, I think I may have formed the intent right there on the spot.”

“It happens,” I said. “How much am I going to have to worry about you?”

“You have enough to worry about with Mom.”

“I’m serious. Do you think you need to see a shrink? We’ll do whatever we need to do to get you past this.”

“How did you handle it, Dad?”

I thought about it before responding. I’d always been one to bottle up feelings, to channel emotions, especially those that were highly stressful. There’d been times in my life when that approach wasn’t healthy. I wanted to help him avoid the mistakes I’d made.

“The men I killed in Grenada were soldiers. I was a soldier.”

“How many did you kill?” he said.

“Three. I shot two and took one out with a grenade. I looked at them up close after I shot them. It wasn’t like it was impersonal, but I was duty-bound. They were trying to kill me, too. It bothered me for a while, I’ve had nightmares about it, but I don’t dwell on it and I never have. I just decided to accept what happened, not feel guilty, and move on. Then John Lipscomb sent the sicarios, and I killed five of them protecting my home and family. I’ve never really given that a second thought. I did what I had to do under the circumstances. I survived, barely, and I protected the people I loved. Once it was over, it was over. I let it go. And that’s what you have to do. You have to let it go. You can’t let it eat at you. If you do, you’ll find yourself having some serious problems.”

“So I just let it go? Sounds easier said than done.”

“Talk about it if you need to. Talk to Charlie, talk to me, talk to your mom. But try not to dwell on it. Eventually, the guilt will fade, the memory will fade. It will always be with you. It’ll always be on the fringes of your mind, but it doesn’t have to have a serious negative impact on your life.”

“I keep hearing the sound her head made when it hit the concrete,” he said.

I knew what he meant. That same sound had stayed with me, too.

“The sound will fade with the memory. Think about where you’re going, Jack, not about where you’ve been. Learning from the past is one thing. Wallowing in it is another. I know you. You’re too strong mentally to let this paralyze you. Think about how much Charlie needs you. Think about how much Mom needs you. Think about how much I need you. And then remind yourself how much we all love you. We’ll get through this, son. You’re not alone. We’ll get through it together.”

He turned his head toward me as we continued down the path.

“I’ll be all right,” he said.

“Yes, yes you will.”

“Do you know how much I love you, Dad?”

I nodded.

“I do, Jack.”

“I still think you’re crazy, but I love you.”